Monday, 15 October 2012

One of the most interesting
developments in our understanding of Nazi Germany in recent years has been the
recognition of Adolf Hitler as a charismatic ‘personality’; an apparently magnetic
character instead of merely a malevolent, psychopathic void. It is indeed a paradox that such

a fundamentally dysfunctional individual - unable to form normal relationships, unable to debate rationally, unable to perform most normal social interactions - could have become a figure of adulation for so many millions of Germans.

It’s a very valid question, and Laurence Rees’ new book – and the TV series that it accompanies – draws on this trend to examine Hitler’s charismatic appeal and ask how all this was possible. Rees goes some way to providing an answer, arguing that Hitler’s rise to power
was attributable – at least in part – to an unholy fusion of his own most peculiar nature
and the urgent need of the German people in the inter-war years to find some sort of messiah-figure to save them from their malaise.Germans, Rees suggests, desperately projected their political and messianic desires onto Hitler,
and his arrogant, intolerant, inflexible personality appeared to confirm that he was, indeed,
someone who was ‘on a mission'. It turned out to be a marriage made in the darkest depths of Hades.

In fact, I think there are two points relating to Hitler's charisma. On the one hand, there is what we might call Hitler's 'political charisma' - the aspect outlined above, which encompasses his undoubted sense of political 'style', his speaking manner, his dress sense, his image-consciousness - his charisma, as it was experienced by the many millions of his followers across Germany, the vast majority of whom never met the man, and never even saw him up close. This aspect of the story Rees explains rather well.

The other aspect - that of Hitler's personal charisma - is a little more complex, and this Rees handles rather less well. Peculiar though it may sound to our modern sensibilities, Hitler undoubtedly had a magnetic personal appeal. This has been confirmed many times by members of his household - those that knew him best and saw him most often and, crucially, when off-duty - all of whom testified to his immense personal charm; his bourgeois manners, his sense of humour and his caring, avuncular nature towards his secretaries. On another level, Hitler also had the knack of impressing those who visited him in his headquarters. He tended - according to those that met him - to use his striking blue eyes to great effect, holding his gaze on a new arrival to 'test' them, for instance. Few were unmoved - Stauffenberg was one of those that found Hitler personally most unimpressive, but he was very much in the minority. In other instances, Hitler proved himself most adept at convincing his underlings of his point of view, not always by ranting and raving (though that also played a part, especially as the war turned against him), but by persuasion. There are countless examples of military men coming to the Fuhrer-HQ urgently seeking to convince Hitler of their opinion, and coming away equally passionately convinced of Hitler's...

This is an important distinction. If we suggest that the "political charisma" is most important in Hitler's rise to power, it is then the "personal charisma" that is surely more instrumental in keeping him there, in heading off potential rivals and critics - with ultimately disastrous effect.

This aspect of his personal charisma, I would argue, still does not get sufficient attention. We saw a glimpse of it in the excellent German film "Downfall"- where it was almost possible - thanks to Bruno Ganz's brilliant performance - to feel sympathy for Hitler as his Reich collapsed about him. Yet, this is still rather the exception. It seems, perhaps, that we are still unable to acknowledge Hitler's humanity - we still prefer to see him as an 'other', someone quite apart from ourselves. I would suggest, on the contrary, that acknowledging his humanity tends to make his crimes all the more horrendous.

Though it does not go far enough then, Rees' book is nonetheless interesting, and is a useful vehicle for
many of the first-hand accounts from eye-witnesses and participants that he has collected over his years as a TV documentary film-maker. Consequently, there are numerous interesting contributions
from ordinary Germans; those transfixed by a Hitler speech or perhaps unnerved
by his piercing blue eyes or his unblinking stare.

But the book
feels padded and overlong. And, with
other venerable Hitler volumes available, I would suggest that this subject
would have been better treated in a shorter, more essayistic style, rather than
producing yet another full-length narrative. It is also curious that the book
comes to a rather abrupt halt, covering the last two years or so of the war in
a final, breathless chapter, despite this being a time when – as Ian Kershaw
has convincingly shown – it was Hitler’s charismatic leadership that was
largely instrumental in keeping the Third Reich fighting to the bitter
end. Perhaps this is where Rees reveals his blindspot - Hitler's "personal charisma".

Hitler was undoubtedly charismatic, and this is an aspect of the story of the Third
Reich that is well-worth examining in some detail.
Unfortunately, however, Rees’ book does not quite do the job well or coherently
enough. It is too long, too unfocused
and too obviously a TV tie-in. There is
certainly a book to be written on Hitler’s charismatic aspect – but, sadly,
this isn’t it.

(this is an extended version of the review that appeared in the Independent on Sunday: 14.10.2012)

Thursday, 4 October 2012

I went along on the trip last weekend to the Western Front, accompanying a group with the tour firm that I am involved with - Historical Trips (www.historicaltrips.com). It was fascinating, of course, and chilling, visiting all those sites of such unimaginable carnage and slaughter - Ypres, Messines, the Somme, Cambrai, the Lochnagar Crater. But what struck me most, perhaps, was the sheer number of 'missing' that one saw listed on so many memorials... How on earth can one 'lose' so many people?

I first encountered this aspect a few years ago when - in a fit of enthusiasm for genealogical research - I tracked down my great uncle (via the Commonwealth War Graves Commission www.cwgc.org) Charles Moorhouse, who I had been told was killed during the Great War.

Dud Corner

I read on the CWGC website that Charles had been killed in April 1918 and was listed on the memorial at Dud Corner cemetery near Loos in the Pas de Calais. Visiting the site, I found that my great-uncle was one of over 20,000 British and Commonwealth soldiers commemorated there who 'have no known grave': just a name, engraved on a large marble plaque, fixed to the cemetery wall.

Menin Gate

I hadn't really thought about Charles, or the "missing", again until this weekend. Naturally, on our tour, we visited the beautiful and sombre Menin Gate at Ypres, where nearly 55,000 names are inscribed of those British and Commonwealth soldiers who died in the Ypres salient and 'have no known grave'. To their eternal credit, the people of Ypres mark that sacrifice every evening at 8.00 with a short service of remembrance and the sounding of the Last Post.

Not far from Ypres, is another memorial - that of Tyne Cot - which was built to accommodate and commemorate those of the missing that did not fit on the vast Menin Gate... The Tyne Cot memorial, therefore, commemorates an additional 35,000 UK and Commonwealth soldiers listed as "missing".

The following day, our tour made its way to the battlefields of the Somme, where famously, some 20,000 British soldiers were killed on the first day alone. But the Somme offensive lasted over four months, and the meat-grinder would scarcely slacken. Consequently, the nearby village of Thiepval was chosen for the construction of a vast memorial to the missing of the battle - over 72,000 names are inscribed on Lutyens' strangely beautiful arch - the largest British war memorial in the world.

Totting up the figures from those four memorials, all within a few miles of each other in northern France and Belgium, one quickly reaches nearly 200,000, a large proportion of the total estimated 500,000 British and Commonwealth "missing" of World War One. (according to Fabian Ware's study of 1937)

It is still staggering to me that an army can 'lose' half a million men in a war. Of course, there are many unnamed graves on the Western Front, but they account for only around 180,000 of the missing, leaving nearly 330,000 - a third of a million men - completely unaccounted for. Where are their bodies? Were they atomised by shellfire? Or simply sucked deep into the Flanders mud? We just don't know. I appreciate that French and Belgian farmers are constantly turning up war material and bones with their ploughs - we saw some of their 'iron harvest' stacked at the edge of a field - but 330,000 men? 330.000 skulls, 660,000 femurs and tibias... Simply astonishing. For those that teach World War One, it is perhaps worth stressing this aspect (if they don't already) as it brings home the sheer horror of the fighting and the scale of the sacrifice - the blood price - that was paid by all sides. Lest we forget.